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Buckles & Blindfolds

(Kinky Cowboys, Book 4)

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

Copyright 2019 by Anitra Lynn McLeod

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

About This Series

Sexy cowboys with playful kinks are going to heat up things in Climax, Colorado. Each stand-alone story combines gorgeous men, passionate encounters, and a happily ever after that will touch your heart. These feel-good stories have absolutely no cheating, low angst, and plenty of romance.

About This Book

Even though ex-cop Rick Browder is desperate for a job, being the bodyguard to a trick rider with a trust fund might be more than he can handle, especially when they've hooked up before. Keeping his hands off his sexy young client proves impossible, but the bigger question is can Rick put his ego aside to embrace a life with Quentin Tenney or will his pride ruin their chance at happiness?

This contemporary western M/M romance contains a powerful bear with a soft heart, a trick rider with a fascination for blindfolds, a May-December romance, hot hookups, and a deeply satisfying HEA. 31,000 words or 124 pages.

Chapter One

Rick Browder had never seen a trick rider do such ridiculous, dangerous stunts in his life. Bad enough the boy not only stood on the back of the horse while another man urged it to run in a circle but he flipped backward. And then, as if the strain on Rick's heart just wasn't enough, the boy put on a blindfold.

The entire crowd went so silent Rick heard his heart pounding in his ears. Around and around the man urged the horse while the boy stood on the back and then he leaped into the air, flipping himself backward.

Surging to their feet, the crowd roared with approval.

Rick shook his head and damn near gnashed his teeth. He hated trick riding. Foolish risk to life and limb when there were plenty of other ways for a man to put himself in danger at a rodeo, ways that actually had some value outside the rodeo.

Still, try as he might, Rick couldn't take his gaze off the kid. Each time he managed to land safely back on his mount and not fall to the ground and break his damn neck, Rick's tension rose. A part of him felt if he looked away, that would be when something went wrong. His gaze and his will kept that crazy kid safe.

Mercifully, the event came to a close after a series of backflips that stole a little bit more of the air out of his chest until the last one where the kid ripped his blindfold off. Rick drew a breath of air that filled his chest almost to bursting. And then, just when he thought it was over, the kid stumbled.

His heart slammed into his throat as the boy sat down hard on the horse and then flopped backward. Rick scaled the fence around the arena, hitting the top rung before he realized the kid had tricked him yet again and fallen into a death drag.

When the kid managed to right himself, he got a standing ovation from the crowd.

Rick climbed back down, feeling a million kinds of foolish.

While the kid and the man leading the horse, presumably the kid's father, took their bows, Rick imagined what he'd say to the man given half a chance. He'd cuss him up one side and down the other because no man who really loved his son would make him perform like a circus monkey for money.

But he wouldn't ever get the chance.

Rick hurried away from the arena. He never should have come to see the rodeo. Too many bad memories. Too much crap he'd thought he'd put behind him when all it had taken was ten seconds of watching to bring it all back.

Streams of crowds impeded his progress out of the fairgrounds. Everyone seemed to be coming in while he kept trying to get out. By the time he reached his pickup in the parking lot, he felt beyond irritated. He drew a series of deep breaths in an attempt to corral his annoyance but that only seemed to feed the beast. Gripping the steering wheel tight, he started the truck and dropped it into gear.

Looking behind him, he waited for two sets of parents with their little kids go by only to earn himself an impatient honk. Instead of snarling at the idiot who expected him to magically vacate the parking space, he counted to ten, ensured no one was behind him, and then inched the truck backward. Rather than wait like any normal person would, the idiot blared his horn again.

Rick gritted his teeth so hard he wouldn't be surprised to shatter them. Everything that could annoy him seemed to be happening all at once. He tried to remain calm, to bring his blood pressure down, but none of his tricks did a damn thing.

Whonk, whonk!

The asshole had to be standing on that fucking horn!

Instead of backing out, Rick pulled into his spot and cut the engine. There. Let the fuckhead deal with that!

When the dumbass continued to honk and honk and honk, Rick climbed out of his truck, locked the door, and headed back toward the entrance of the fairgrounds despite getting called a dozen names by the dude with the shitty punk hair. Fuck that fucking fucker. Rick would have happily gotten out of the guy's way but no, he just had to be an asshole. Not to be outdone, Rick decided he could be an even bigger asshole. Just in case the fuckwit decided to mess with his ride, Rick made a note of the guy's license plate. A part of him almost wanted him to fuck with his truck. Since he couldn't beat the shit out of him with his fists, he wouldn't mind taking it out on him in a court of law.

He'd made it about two lanes over when the guy took off, burning rubber on the pavement only to screech to a halt.

Rick closed his eyes, hoping against hope he didn't hear a sickening thud of the car hitting a body. Thankfully, he just heard more honking and then the sound of the guy driving off.

Relieved, Rick kept walking toward the entrance. He really didn't want to go back inside but if he got in the truck and started driving he didn't trust himself not to be aggressive. What he needed was a way to take the edge off.

His gaze went right to a tight butt in a pair of faded jeans. He grunted and readjusted himself without being too obvious about it. Cruising the fairgrounds wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had, but he'd sworn off the local watering hole.

Rick decided to grab dinner from one of the stands when someone slammed into his shoulder. He turned, ready to unleash the full fury of his anger only to find himself tongue-tied. The trick rider with a thing for blindfolds stood in front of him, only this close, Rick realized he wasn't a kid. Not by a long shot. He looked old enough to get up to no good with a very dirty old man who desperately needed to blow off some steam.

"Sorry," the trick rider said.

Unwilling to speak because he feared only a grunt would come out, Rick nodded. And then he tried to do the noble thing and turn away, but the young man wouldn't let him go.

He placed his hand on Rick's arm, lightly, companionably, and asked, "Don't I know you?"

"No." Rick tried again to turn away, but the trick rider wouldn't let him. His hold tightened until it damn near turned possessive.

"I do know you," he insisted.

"I doubt that."

"You were the one who scaled the arena fence when I went into the death drag."

Rick couldn't call the kid a liar when he wasn't. Instead, he nodded and then glared down at the hold the kid had on his arm. Instead of backing off, like any wise man would do, the kid slipped his arm through Rick's and said, "Walk with me."

"What the fuck?" Rick tried to untangle himself, but the kid was stronger than he looked.

"There's this guy who won't leave me alone. If he sees me walking with you, maybe he'll get the fucking hint, okay?"

Rick resisted the urge to turn his head this way and that. He had no idea if someone was following them or not. Frankly, he didn't really care. The kid smelled good. He'd probably had a shower this morning and then nothing but hard work since. Lightly sweaty, not unpleasant. A whiff of mint gum and fabric softener.

"What's your name?" the kid asked.


"Rick. No last name?" The kid flashed a cheeky grin.


"I'm Quentin Tenny. Everyone calls me QT. You know. Cutie?" He flashed a smile that probably got him everything he wanted from the ladies and most gentleman. Unfortunately for Quentin, Rick was as far from a gentleman as a man could get while still walking upright.

Very deliberately, Rick said, "Nice to meet you, Quentin."

"You're a cranky old man, aren't you?"

"And you're a spoiled little boy."

"Hardly." Quentin's hold tightened. "If I was spoiled, you'd give me exactly what I want."

"I'm walking with you, aren't I?"

"True. But that's not what I want."

Rick refused to take the bait and ask what the kid wanted. He had a pretty good idea and no desire to have his guess confirmed, especially when he was desperately trying to eject the idea from his brain.

"Why don't I tell you what I want?" Quentin glanced over his shoulder. "Or better yet, why don't I show you?"

Rick suddenly found himself yanked into a dark alley between two food stands. The smell of cotton candy made his mouth water and the scent of hot dogs made his stomach rumble. When the kid pressed up against him, Rick forgot everything but the fact he hadn't had a partner in well over a month.

"One good thing about working here is I know all the secret spots." Quentin pressed against Rick, working his hips up and down, rubbing himself against Rick's cock like an animal in heat. "And one good thing about being extremely gay is I know all the secret spots on a big bear like you."

Rick closed his eyes and allowed himself the brief fantasy of what it would be like to turn his anger into lust and expended it on this young, attractive, and—what did he say? Exceptionally gay young man? Whatever. No matter how badly he needed release and how badly this kid said he wanted it, Rick wasn't about to get lured into some situation that could hurt his chances of getting that job.

Instead of pushing him away, a tactic that could backfire, Rick would use the power of the putdown. "What does a kid like you know about taking care of a man like me?"


"I doubt that." Rick sidestepped Quentin, earning himself a pout. "What are you, sixteen?"

Instead of getting angry, the kid laughed. "I'm twenty-three."


"Here." Quentin pulled out a driver's license and used his phone to light it up.

Yep. Sure enough. Quentin Tenney, twenty-three, an organ donor, and he lived in Rockport, Maine. Well now. That did put a different spin on things. Here today, gone tomorrow, Quentin might just be the perfect guy to hook up with. Rick returned the license.

"Well?" Quentin asked, after tucking his wallet and phone into his jacket pocket.

Rick palmed the kid's muscular buttocks and yanked him against his body. "You feel that?"

"Oh, fuck yeah, I feel that." Instead of his big cock putting the fear of pain into Quentin, he redoubled his squirming and whisper-moaned, "You're as thick as a can of soda pop."

"And you think you can handle that?"

"I know I can." Quentin wrapped his arms around Rick's shoulders. "The only question is can you give it to me?"

Rick didn't answer with words. He lifted the kid against him, sliding him up and down, getting both of them good and hard. When Quentin tried to kiss him, Rick turned his head aside and bit Quentin's neck.

"Oh, fuck yeah. I love being bitten." Quentin tightened his hold on Rick's shoulders.

"You also talk too much."

"Then shove something in my mouth."

Rick rarely met a man who managed to combine a sense of entitlement with exactly what Rick wanted to give him. "You've got a big mouth, but there's no way it will fit around my cock."

"Then fuck me with it."

Rick put Quentin on his feet but only long enough for both of them to yank their pants down to their upper thighs. He fumbled at his jacket pocket for a condom and a pillow pack of lube, pleased when Quentin wasn't shy about helping him suit up.

In less than twenty seconds, he had Quentin back in his arms only this time, he lifted his legs up to one shoulder.

"I can take my fucking pants off."

"It would take too much time." Rick smeared lube against Quentin's hole then pressed his cock against that tight opening. "Last chance to bail out, kid."

"I'm not a fucking kid and I'm not about to—oh, mother of mercy." Quentin's eyes rolled back as Rick pushed his cock inside. Not all at once. Rick eased him down his length, loving the way his ass stretched to accommodate him. He felt resistance, but not enough to cause pain. Quentin hadn't been lying. He could take him.

"I guess trick riding horses isn't the only kind of trick riding you do." Rick waited for Quentin to open his mouth to make a smart comment. When he did, he yanked him down, seating himself balls deep.

Quentin's head went back and he moaned.

Rick suddenly remembered where they were. Had someone heard Quentin? He listened intently but all he heard were the sounds of hundreds of people around them, laughing and talking but not one of them knew what the two of them were doing back here.

"You gotta be quiet," Rick whispered.

"I'll be quiet if you fuck me."

Rick held Quentin's legs tight against his chest with one hand then used the other to rock him back and forth on his cock.

"Aw, fuck." Quentin grasped Rick's shoulders to steady himself so his swinging ass didn't go wide but stayed in a narrow line over Rick's prick.

Once they got into a mutual rhythm, they edged closer to orgasm.

"Harder," Quentin demanded.

"You can't take much more."

"I can fucking take anything you give."

Rick felt all his frustration and fury turn into hardcore lust. He became a machine, pounding into Quentin's tight ass, loving the way he clung to him. Despite the rough fuck, Quentin kept egging him on by snarling dirty words of encouragement.

"Don't worry, kid. I'm gonna make you come. Make you lose your load all over your fancy fucking shirt." Rick redoubled his efforts by taking his hand from Quentin's legs and wrapping it around Quentin's cock. "That's it. Come for me. Tighten up around my cock. I want that sweet little ass of yours to milk me fucking dry."

"You dirty fuck—oh!" Quentin erupted, splattering mostly himself. When his channel clamped around Rick's cock, he tumbled over the edge and came so hard he reached out to stabilize himself. He felt the wall start to give.

"Shit!" Rick yanked himself and Quentin away, hiding deeper into the darkness between the fairway booths.

"Fuck, I think it's going to cave in."

"Shit." Rick pulled out of Quentin, tossed the condom, and hastily redressed himself while Quentin did the same. By the time the wall went down, the two of them had slipped out the other end of the alley.

Sunlight hit him like an accusation. Rick blinked, got his bearings, and turned to say something to Quentin but the trick rider had vanished into the crowd.

Chapter Two

Rick strolled around to the front of the booth area, just to make sure his hot, fast hookup hadn't hurt anyone. Everyone seemed okay. The wall just fell until it hit the top of a popcorn maker. No harm, no foul.

Famished, he got something to eat and wandered around the fairgrounds, half hoping to run into Quentin again. He would have liked to thank him. Maybe get him to come back to his motel room where they'd have more room for round two, but then again, maybe once was for the best. Right now, he didn't need any complications. If he wanted to get that job and keep it, he had to stay on the straight and narrow.

When he finished eating, he headed out to the parking lot, surprised to find the impatient driver hadn't vandalized his truck. Maybe things were going to start going his way. He left without incident, arrived at the Climax Motel without incident, showered, and then slipped into bed. Luck stayed with him when sleep came almost effortlessly.

Up and at them long before his interview, he took his time getting dressed in the best suit he had then headed over to the diner for breakfast.

"Well hey, cutie pie. Guess you just couldn't stay away." Wanda Jo, a woman with as much brass in her personality as she had in her hair, greeted him then handed him a menu.

Rick flirted with her, enjoying the banter, then ate his breakfast while scanning the patrons. He couldn't help himself. Once a cop, always a cop. When he finished, he left a good tip then headed over to the local sheriff's office.

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